Send me a Song
by Rin0rourke
Summary: Nursery rhymes and lullabys can inspire just as much as a playlist. Answer to a Challenge, collection of shorts, contains slash of varying ratings so tread carefully. Changed the title.
1. One for Sorrow

One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

"Roll the dice," he had said. Danny had only looked at him oddly, making no move towards the tiny pink pyramids with their little numerals marked on them.

"What are you playing at Dash?" he demanded, staring at the large teen who towered over him ominously, he never glanced away, not even to sweep the details of what he held in his hand into his mental collection. He didn't trust Dash enough to believe his distraction wouldn't be taken advantage of, after all, Dash's other hand was still hidden inside his jacket pocket.

"We're playing dice." Dash replied, "Now roll."

Danny didn't move.

He wondered how long he could keep up the resistance before Dash just decided to up and pound him, but usually after that he stalked off, and the beating was less than what he had been planning anyway.

"Fenton, roll the dice or I'll tell Lancer it was you who tampered with the chem lab." It hadn't been, but the result of said tampering had been dangerous chemical spills, evacuation of the entire school, and four students, including Dash and Danny, spending a good amount of time hosed down. Lancer, Ishiyama, and a threateningly large number of other people were still on the witch hunt for the perpetrator, even though the incident had been three months ago. The idea of having that crusade sicked on him made him pick up the triangles from Dash's hand and toss them on the table. Dash's friends watched with crooked grins as they landed, two etchings face down on the table, three in the air. Danny thought it was a stupid way to play dice, but Dash and his cronies were idiots after all.

"What did it land on?" Paulina asked with a wide smile, Dash picked up one dice and looked at the bottom.

"Girl." he said, and Danny rolled his eyes, this had better not be some stupid dating game thing. He picked up the other one, and at Dash's sour look showed him the bottom without knowing what it meant. "Medium," Dash announced, and some squeals were had, male groans could be heard but before Danny got out a question he was tackled, tied up, and carted off to the female locker room to be dressed up.

Pictures were taken of the end result, then distributed around school the next day. Danny decided he didn't like this dice game.

Lunch again and this time Sam and Tucker were there to witness as he was threatened into another dice roll. Both the boys and girls got to give him a medium, which apparently was a swirly. When he was drying off Tucker explained what he discovered about the game. It seemed to go like this: Each die had a blank side, a single slash, a double slash, and a dot. The bottom side, the one facing face down on the table, was the rolled selection, and the first die to be picked up meant who would get to carry out the sentence, boys or girls, one slash for boys, two slash for girls, the dot was for both, and the blank for Dash. The next die rated severity, the dot for the most severe, this could be anything from physical abuse to utter humiliation, there was apparently no limit, the double slash was a medium, the single slash was a minor, and the blank side was chefs choice, which meant the participants came up with things to do, and the dice roller got to decide which one he wanted to suffer through.

Sam announced her great dislike of this game.

The next day continued on like this, and so did the next. Every school day at lunch the popular crowd gathered around a single table and Danny rolled the dice to decide his fate.

Then one day a roll earned him a new reaction.

One dot on each end, Dash announced "Dead End" and Danny was told to get lost with sour looks of disappointment. He had apparently rolled a get-out-of-bullying-free. Tucker said he liked the game, Danny and Sam glared at him.

It wasn't so bad, this new game of theirs, though they only made Danny play, though he made them force him into it. Usually it ended with the worst possible bullying he could get, it happened once a day, at lunch, and then it was over. Not a bad game, after all sometimes he got off scot free.

"Hey Fenton!" Dash approached him late in the afternoon after coming from practice. Danny glowered at him. Lancer had kept him after class in detention, made him study for crap because someone had read that ridiculous magazine about him being a genius and wanted to interview him. He was not in a good mood.

"Go away Dash." He turned and began walking towards the back of the building. There were a million different exits, many of them windows, to this building and he wasn't afraid to use a one if Dash followed.

A harsh grip on his arm disagreed with this plan. Without a single swear or threat Dash swung him around and pinned him to the wall, or door... Danny felt glass at the back of his neck.

"How about you roll the dice?" Dash asked.

Danny snapped at him. "How about you roll over and die?"

"Awe, but then who would keep you company?" He held out the little pyramids, Danny wanted to take them and flush them down the toilet; instead he smacked them out of Dash's hand. They heard the clatter of the dice on the linoleum, but neither bothered looking at them. Danny was watching Dash, Dash was looking at his own hands. Sliding one hand from the upper arm where he had gripped the brunette up to his shoulder, Dash put his empty hand up to Danny's opposite shoulder and whirled him around, slamming him against the lockers on the other side of the hall.

Danny grunted in pain, toeing the ground from his new height, pleased to see his heel only a little off the ground, he could still touch it with the balls of his feet. Dash, however, was staring at him in a strange kind of daze.

"Wonder what it landed on." he finally spoke, making the smaller boy shrink away at the sudden warmth of his breath against his skin. "Maybe we should see what you got coming to you." A tongue peeked out to wet his lips; he wasn't blinking, keeping his wide eyed vigil on the brunette's neck.

"Maybe you should," Danny retorted, "but you'd have to put me down first." Dash flexed his fingers, gripping his shoulders harder and raising him just a bit farther off the ground. "And it looks like that's the last thing you want to do."

It really was.

"Are you going crazy Dash?" Danny asked as the jock's eyes traveled up to meet his gaze. There was a sheen of sweat covering his tanned face, and a slight flush.

"Course not!" Dash replied, though it was a bit uncertain. "I should hit you for that, by the way." When his victim raised an eyebrow he elaborated, "For losing the dice."

"It's a stupid game," Danny declared.

"I liked it." was the reply, "so did the guys."

"Are you gonna shove me somewhere or am I going to be dangling here for the rest of the night?" Technically he wasn't dangling, but the phrase just came to him, hopefully Dash wouldn't notice. "Because my parents are expecting me home right after school and with detention, well, I'm already in deep."

Dash paused a moment, he didn't have any good excuse to keep him here, though slamming him back against the lockers again sounded like a real good idea at the moment.

He hauled the teen back and threw him, the corner of his mouth tipping up at the grunt of pain.

"Get lost Fenton," he said with mocking humor in his voice, watching Danny push himself up off the floor, "or next time I'll make you eat the dice."

He watched him get to his feet and walk away. Danny didn't look back at all, not for the entire walk to the front doors, nor when he opened it, or when he walked through.

As soon as he was out the door Dash turned towards the back, where Mr. Lancer stood in his doorway watching.

"Not yet huh?" the pudgy older man asked. Dash shook his head.

"Maybe next time," was his reply, and he stepped back into his office, "He's always getting detention for something."

The teen moved after him, but stepped on something. Lifting up his foot he saw a little pink pyramid. Picking it up, it was on its blank side.

"Dash?"

Glancing around, he spotted the other one. It too was on its blank side.

He couldn't help it; he smiled, shaking his head again as a slow chuckle rose in his throat.

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret

Never to be told.


	2. Ghost of Tom

_Have you seen the ghost of Tom?_

Long white bones with the rest all gone

The shower sprayed down onto their bodies with a dull roar, almost but not quite drowning out the aggravated complaints and insults being thrown back and forth among the inhabitants of the locker-room just outside the tiled structure. But within, within the blue tinted room there stood two bodies pressed close, leaning against he walls.

"Da-DASH!" Danny choked out the name as the jock ran the rough sponge across his soap slicked shoulders, caressing muscles stressed taut beneath the skin of the edgy brunette.

"I'll be as gentle as I can, Fenton," Dash muttered next to his ear, "but you gotta relax." He traced lazy, curving designs in the froth, fingers massaging the red lines on Danny's neck left from bunching his shoulders tight, hands pressed to the cold wet wall. With sponge in hand, Dash made the attempt again, this time aiming lower.

Danny let out a broken cry when contact was made and his elbows almost folded, he pressed his forehead against the cool tile while Dash went to work, finding a rhythm in the smooth gentle motions. "Dash." He repeated the name, drawing it out in a breathy moan.

"Hush, just a little more," Dash told him and Danny bit his lip to keep quiet, "soon, soon." Dash's hands and motions sped up, as if his own words had made him impatient.

"H-Hah, Dash please!"

"Oh my god you guys sound like you're having sex in there!" Kwan stepped into the section of the shower the two boys occupied and glared at them.

Dash paused, one hand clutching the soapy sponge while the other had just let go of the extendable showerhead. Soapsuds stained pink and orange ran from Danny's abused body to the floor and down the drain.

"Well what do you expect when this idiot won't keep his mouth shut long enough for me to scrub the grime off!" Dash growled, grabbing the antibacterial soap and standing straight. "God why do I have to be the one to do this?"

"Because you're the one who threw him in the dumpster to begin with and it's not like the nurse could come into the boys locker-room and scrub him down."

"Not like I knew the science lab had tossed out all that junk, I didn't want him THIS roughed up!" Dash touched the sponge to a couple shallow cuts and abrasions on Danny's hip and thigh where the metal had sliced through his thick jeans. Danny whimpered from the sting. "Shut up already!"

"What the hell do you want me to do?" Danny cried out, his limbs trembled. "It hurts."

"I can make it hurt worse if you want!" Dash threw the sponge on the ground, grabbed the bottle of soap with both hands and squirted a stream of the orange stuff right onto the bloody mess of cuts across the smaller teens back.

Danny let out a howl, spun around and threw a punch, catching Dash in the chest and knocking him to the wet floor. "That burns you idiot!"

"Wasn't supposed to tickle!" Dash shot back.

Kwan rolled his eyes and left the area, shaking his head in exasperation. Another jock leaving the locker room smirked at him.

"Sex?" he said with a grin, "Yeah right. Like those two would ever stop fighting long enough to get it on, even if they were gay."

Kwan threw his head back and laughed, clapping his buddy on the shoulder. "I know, but you gotta admit those sounds were pretty similar." They were the last two out, so as the door shut behind them there was nobody left in the vicinity to hear the next few words.

"You are so no getting any tonight!" Danny yelled, and the spray of water muffled Dash's reply.

_Ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooh  
Wouldn't it be chilly with no skin on? _

-

I have no idea where this came from. I typed it up while in line for Jurassic Park and could hear construction of the Wizarding World of Harry Potter over my favorite Halloween song. The castle can now barely be seen emerging from over the treetops. It's really cool watching the different stages of creation.

Anyway, now that it's typed up here I can free up some space on my phone. It was a long wait line.

Next drabble with be a regular song, Nothing Better to Do by LeAnn Rimes. *shrug*Its already finished but I wont post it till tomorrow.


	3. Caught Fish

_One, two, three, four, five,  
Once I caught a fish alive,  
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,  
Then I let it go again _

Invisible. Some high school students who hovered just below the social radar liked to call themselves that, they liked to use the word and mix it in a pot with others like it to somehow describe their experience in the concrete reformatory they were forced to adjourn to five days out of the week. Yet at the same time when they did anything particularly embarrassing, they said that they wished they could **become** invisible, disappear entirely, and never return. The gross overuse of the term was something that irritated Danny, because when he used it, it was a bit more literal.

At the moment Danny really was invisible, and not the 'nobody particularly popular would notice him' kind of invisible, but the 'people could read the newspaper through his torso' invisible, or rather, the school activities board, which was what was currently behind him.

"Over here!" Danny heard one call, which made him tense even more, the little green dog in his arms slobbered at his hand covering its muzzle, but Danny refrained from acknowledging the ickiness of the act, instead concentrating on getting out of the situation as best he could. Ghost hunters in the building, Cujo running haywire in his school, ghost security and surveillance newly installed by his ever so loving parents, and now cornered in between a wall he can't faze through without stepping into a meeting between the GWI, the principal and superintendent, and his family, and two teenagers who had volunteered enthusiastically and were told to 'scout the area.'

Obviously GWI speech for, get these freshmen fan-boys away from us.

Inching away slightly he grimaced when the little taser-like piece of tech edged in that direction as well. Damn, it wasn't as though he was transformed either, just a little see-through action in his human state, he should not be giving off ectoplasmic signatures, it had to be Cujo they were tracking.

He crouched down, butt almost touching the floor, and duck walked a ways, watching the teen watching the device, Cujo growling behind his hand when another came up behind his friend with a Fenton Grappler, it didn't exactly raise Danny's hopes of escape, but the fact that the first one had not moved after him, but simply swayed the device back and forth told him the item was a GIW invention, and not the Fenton Finder, so they could track him, but not how far he was, which made him a little less screwed.

Slowly he made his way backwards, one foot, then the next, painfully slow movements that made his thighs and calves ache. Then when he was a few feet away from them he stood and bolted.

He slammed into the boys bathroom, door swinging open wide, and then because he was invisible, and not intangible, he subsequently slammed into the person currently inside the tiled room.

Losing his concentration for an instant he flicked back into view, toppling over the large occupant and crashing to the ground as the heavy door slowly slid shut.

His mind was blank for an instant when he lifted his gaze from a black cotton covered torso to the clammy face of Dash Baxter. With his horrid luck today, it really shouldn't have surprised him. He had tripped over dash while he was using the urinal.

"Um, uh sorry." Danny choked out as he struggled to get off the larger teen without lessening his grip on the struggling green puppy in his arms. If given the chance, Cujo would happily dart back out there to be chase all around again by his favorite ghost boy.

Something twitched against his stomach.

At first he thought it was the dog's tail, but Cujo's wasn't that long, or thick. He looked back at Dash, eyes wide, seeing the flush of embarrassment. He had so not been using the urinal.

He jolted up, gripping the dog to him and stumbling back against the door. "Uh, I'm really, really sorry." He apologized again to Dash as the boy put his legs together and tugged his shirt down over himself. The Jock didn't look at him, just stared at the wall blushing with a hand over his mouth. "I…I'll leave now."

He was out the door again in an instant.

Behind Dash's hand, he was smiling.

_Why did you let it go?  
Because it bit my finger so.  
Which finger did it bite?  
This little finger on my right._

-

There was a comment down here, and it was pretty damn funny, but I had to move it, because I decided that if you guys read it than the next little addition to this series wouldn't but such a lol worthy surprise. So you can read the comment that was going to be down here at the bottom page of the next chapter. When I post it. That will be tomorrow…hopefully. You know, Coming Out Day is gonna be a huge party for me, I'll be down at the parade and stuffs.

I finally grew some and wrote one of those "Letters you never send' to my crush of infinite years, and then sent it. So I need some major upbeat companionship right now. Let's all have smiles and giggles and awkward situations, m'kay?


	4. Choices

_Birds of a feather flock together,  
And so will pigs and swine;_

It was one of those 'what if' things, a kind of 'who'd you rather' game where everybody wanted to corner everybody else with choices so bizarre you just had to shudder and glance away, uncertain of what might haunt your dreams that night.

"Okay," Star said as it was her turn. "You're wasted at a party and have a one night stand with one of the bottom feeders there; out of all the losers you can think of, who'd you rather wake up to?"

"Valerie." Was Kwan's choice, earning him a smack from his girlfriend.

"She doesn't count; I still hang out with her." Star hissed.

"That's your choice, she's a loser and I chose her." The jock grumbled, he really should have known better than to pick his ex girlfriend.

Ashley sighed and thought, "Mikie," she picked, very glad the little dweeb wasn't with them at this moment, but he was the only one she was used to having around.

It was Paulina's turn, "Ummm, hmm," she made a show of deciding, Ashley and Star shared an annoyed glance and Kwan rested his chin in his hand strumming his fingers against the wood of the table they sat at. Everybody knew she'd choose Danny Fenton, she had some silly soft spot for him.

But she just had to take forever.

"Oh I don't know, Dash who would **you** choose?" she turned to the blond sitting on the steps to the school, more intent on winning some new game on his phone than hanging with them. Paulina had been trying to drag him into the conversation since they started, he hadn't been interested.

Hearing his name he grunted. "Fenton."

Everybody scoffed, this was the first time he'd actually replied, and he gave **that** answer.

"Jaz isn't a loser Dash, she's one of my friends, and a senior, so she doesn't count pick someone else." Star was regretting not restricting the choices more.

Dash halted in his game, his whole body tense as he turned to pin them with a glare, a tingle sound announced he lost. "I wasn't talking about her."

The faces changed immediately.

Kwan balked, "dude gross!"

Star opened and closed her mouth a few times as Ashley's face took on a more and more confused look.

And Paulina stuttered out a choppy "But Danny's a boy!"

Dash snorted at the reactions, "So?" he turned back to his game, clicking a few buttons to restart, "he's the only one I'd tolerate, even drunk off my ass."

"But what about Sam?" Ashley offered, "She's a girl, and she's not completely hideous."

"Yeah," Dash sneered at her, "But can you imagine her with all that eyeliner smeared? If I'm gonna have a one night stand its gonna be with someone I wouldn't mind waking up to. That's Fenton, Goth-chick would give me heart failure." And the one time they'd kissed at Ember's concert he'd almost blew chunks.

"But he's a BOY!" Paulina repeated, unable to say much else.

"Whatever, it's just a hole." Dash shrugged, restarting his game, little bleeps and jingles could be heard as he pressed buttons, "`sides have you seen him in drag? Stick a wig on him and its all good."

They turned back to their own game, Paulina no longer trying to drag an answer out of him. Kwan muttered a few rounds later when Dash saved his progress and got up to leave that that was probably what the blonde had intended when he answered.

Dash heard this and smiled.

_Rats and mice will have their choice,  
And so will I have mine._


	5. Two Evils

_A man in the wilderness  
Asked this of me,  
"How many strawberries  
Grow in the sea?"_

Danny sat very still, perhaps thinking that if he didn't move, didn't make a sound, Dash would just forget the bet and walk right past him, or maybe change his mind and opt for giving him a swirly or trash canning him or something.

He turned terrified eyes to the jock waiting in the lunch line, the amount of arrogance he exuded was near stifling, more so than usual, the fact that he only won the bet because Lancer was upset with Danny and his friends not bothering him in the least.

When Dash turned to swagger towards him Danny spotted a silver domed plate sitting innocently atop the jock's faded cafeteria tray, all hope crumbled away and his body began to tremble. Of course, Dash would go through with it; the dude had no decency whatsoever. He carried the thing around in his pocket for crying out loud.

He swept those frightened eyes over the crowd that began to surround them and then turned back to his friends, silently begging them for some kind of help, a distraction or excuse or something. He very rarely ever wished ghosts would attack during school hours, but he'd face the Fright Knight all over again if he could just escape what was about to happen

They gave him sympathetic and slightly horrified looks but could do nothing but watch.

"Salt." Sam handed to him, maybe he could drown the terrible taste in shuddering amounts of sodium chloride.

"Pepper," Tucker added, simply because it was a required companion, and Danny was certain his taste buds would die after a few seconds of nibbling.

"Clothspin" Sam was near sanctified for this last minute detail, and in the back of his mind he made a note to thank her profusely. Yet he didn't thank her then, nor Tucker, instead he just stared ahead, wide eyed, hoping against everything that Dash would just change his mind at the last minute, or Lancer would walk in, or a ghost would attack, or the sun would implode and take the universe with it.

"Bon Appé-tidy-whitey looser," Dash said as he set the plate before him with a winner's smirk, simultaneously removing the tray's cover to reveal the stained, threadbare undergarment it concealed. Danny gulped, fingers curling as the stench of the underwear tickled his nostrils past the wooden clasp, he could almost feel his nose hairs singe.

With absolute revulsion he fingered the scrap of clothing, half expecting it to come alive and bite him, after all it wouldn't be the first item emitting green vapors to do so, and pulled it off the plate. Nausea hit him hard the closer it came to his face and he had to swallow several times to keep from vomiting onto the worn tile of the cafeteria.

"What's a matter Fenton, too much for you?" Dash sneered and Danny had to take a few deep breaths, facing away from the briefs of course, before he could answer.

In a nasally voice, "Can't I just give you a blowjob instead?" He responded scathingly.

The cafeteria split into a roar of sudden laughter, a few 'good ones' were shouted and it appeared like if nothing else he at least convinced a few people he had humor. Dash furrowed his brows in an aggravated glare.

"Cut the comedy Fentonio," the jock remarked in a whisper placing a hand on the table to lean over him, "Follow through on your own or I'll shove it down your throat myself, but you're not getting out of it."

They shared a few seconds of angry staring contest before the brunette turned his attention back to the item in his grasp, face slightly averted to avoid the full affect of its noxious fumes. With tightened gut and convulsing gag reflex he managed out a raspy whisper of his own.

"I was being serious"

Dash's face contorted strangely, nobody else was close enough to hear it, and Danny wasn't facing Dash so he missed his reaction to his words. With shaking hands and green complexion he pulled the item towards his mouth to begin a light nibble.

A large hand gripped his arm painfully, causing him to release the garment. The smaller teen glanced up in surprise at Dash, who was now near unbearably close, his eyes a strange intensity. He didn't even get a stuttered acknowledgment out before the jock was dragging him away.

"H-hey Dash!" One of his jock buddies called, "Where you goin?"

"Someplace!" Was shouted back before the cafeteria doors closed behind them, leaving everybody else to their lunch, and Sam and Tucker to wonder just what had been mumbled to change Dash's mind.

Whatever other punishment it was he opted for, they decided, it had to be better than devouring the thing that was currently eating its way like acid through the linoleum floor.

_I answered him  
As I thought good,  
"As many red herrings  
As swim in the wood."_

So what would you rather do? Blowjob or eat Dash's old underwear?

Lesser of two evils I suppose. Hey, that could be the title!


	6. Mulberry Bush

_All around the mulberry bush  
The monkey chased the weasel.  
The monkey thought 'twas all in fun.  
Pop! goes the weasel._

Danny streaked into the backstage area, flying intangible through the door so fast and with so much force he actually made it open, and found himself in the dressing rooms. Ember's punk Goth outfits lining the walls and ghostly makeup items hovering around the vanity, some opened their eyes and hissed at him as he passed, looking for a hint of where the specter had gone.

"Hey douche bag!" Ember called from the left and without thinking he zoomed through the closet into the next room, tackling the body on the other side.

Only it wasn't Ember.

Ember sat on a stool with her guitar in hand and her hair down from its ponytail and flickering in its ghostly fire. Her band members at their instruments behind her and her fingers strummed a repeating cord over and over, like a skipping CD.

Danny moved up off the floor to attack again, but strong arms had wrapped themselves around his torso. In his searing anger at seeing her he had forgotten he'd body slammed someone. Hoping they were okay he glanced down to see a dreary looking Dash Baxter. "Dash?" He squeaked out. He hadn't actually expected to find the jock so soon, had come after the musician in the hopes of beating answers out of her. Danny sat back, hand reaching out to help Dash up, but the intense look on the blonds face made his hesitate.

"Been practicing my love ballad on him." Ember said through the mike. "Not as strong as the note I used on you so long ago, but once I get my fan base back together again I'm sure I'll have you wrapped up. For now though, he's had hours worth of unresolved tension we really need to work off.

Danny felt a cold sweat bead along his spine and arms as the near zombified Dash sat up, hands moving to his shoulders. He phased out of the jock's grip and jumped back, settling into a fighting stance.

"TYnsion?" he quipped nervously. "No problem, I've been dying to kick his keester since first semester ninth grade."

"Why act so obtuse ghost shit?" Ember jibed with a smirk. "We both know that's not what I meant." With delicate fingers she cranked up the volume and played out the next few lines of music. It was a sweet sounding song, with a soft beat slowing introduced into the background courtesy her drummer.

"Okay, You've seriously creeped me out," he phased through an attempt by Dash to kiss him, "can we go back to fighting now? I'm not having fun here, and I didn't think you were the AV* type of girl."

"You'd be surprised the type of girl I can be." "By the way, thanks to your parents and best friend insisting on ghost security in all major businesses," she purred into the mike, "which this studio does abide by, you won't be able to leave this room in three, "She stopped playing long enough to reach for a switch on another panel, Danny panicked and flew at the glass separating them. "Two, one." She flipped it and there was a barely noticeable ring, like when a TV was turned on.

He hit the wall.

They cackled raucously behind the window while he peeled himself away, leaving a translucent smear of sweat and skin oil. Ember messed with a few more controls while the rest of the gang filed out through the door and a full song of the notes she'd just been playing burst from the speakers. Most likely a prerecorded demo they had no doubt been working on. She and her crew probably didn't even need to be sitting there, doubtless only played her guitar to see the awkward look on his face.

Well, it sure must look hilarious.

"Have fun." she winked, and left as well. A body was at his back, pressing against the glass. He allowed Dash to pass through him and ran to the other end of the room, glaring at the panting teen.

Even with his ghost powers protecting him he could feel a warmth spread to his gut. Man if it was effecting him this much he could only imagine what it was doing to Dash.

Unresolved Tension? Understatement of the millennium.

_Up and down the City Road,  
In and out of the Eagle,  
That's the way the money goes.  
Pop! goes the weasel._

*That's _Adult Video_, not Audio Visual, just so you guys don't get confused.

~*~*~

Lol, how does Danny get out of this one? I have no clue. Make something up.

Was chatting with some friends about the flashback in PO and they were trying to pry out of me exactly what the ghosts wanted Dash for. I told them to guess, and this was one of the answers. It's nowhere near accurate, but it was lulzy enough that I thought I'd type it up. And then it sat on my phone for a few weeks.

So anyway, some of you may have noticed in past comments I like to say "next chapter will be this," or "it's coming next update" well, yeah they either get discarded halfway through (as ideas tend to do that) or I push them aside because I thought of something else to do at the moment. You will probably still see them later, but at the moment most of them are just a few neglected paragraphs.

Anyway, here's a thought. Danny and Dash wage a bet, the looser has to be the winner's slave for a full 12 hours. Who do you guys want to win, Danny or Dash? I'm rather indecisive. Worry not, both will lead to slash.


	7. Tucker Stuck Her in the Butter

Rin's pathetic excuse of a computer is still, well, pathetic. Do I really have to complain about it? I mean, MY computer is working just fine. ;D

She scribbled this out into a note on her phone and texted it to me. (as you can guess it took several texts)

I refuse to play text tag with this crap, so basically it's gotten a basic grammar and spelling edit (since I suck at both you can guess the QUALITY of said edit) and is COMPLETELY without our usual simplifying attempts. So the metaphors run rampant and any readers suffering from should run like little crazy scardy people who are scared…

I particularly like the staring contest down there. I find it delicious. I mean, come on, how often do you get such an awesome description of "if looks could kill"?

*~(O w O)~*

_Bye, baby bumpkin  
Where's Tony Lumpkin_

Every few months there comes a time of gloom. A little period of depressed exhaustion and frayed nerves usually lasting a moment or two after a harrowing epic in which the hero, his companions, and the occasional temporary ally risk life, limb, and hygiene to wage battle against would be conquerors of their little city. This smattering of emotion from the half ghost typically follows a bittersweet triumph, though he has been known to brood even after a joyous trumping of ectoplasmic villainy. A moment or two, that's all it was, with perhaps a poetic lament on the world of heroing and its tragedies, impregnating the silence with a philosophy so profound it could do nothing for these battle hardened victors but birth an epiphany. The dawn of an idea whose nativity threatened to rupture the foundation of their individual ivory towers.

Lucky enough for the lot of them this life altering conception, this mating of war wounds and duty, the seeds of doubt meeting the nurturing womb of justice, was easily enough aborted. To this date the ideology was never delivered, the dogma never carried to full term, meeting instead the glinting steel of the modern worlds knife, wielded by the simple reality of teenage attention spans. Miscarried out onto the small gathering of champions the flopping fetus of philosophy lay bloodied and deformed, wetting the feet of the college bound who would, without fail, choose a simple relaxing day off in replacement of pondering life's secret turmoil.

Off they fled, off to moving images depicting plot-less explosions, nudity, and a fatality of the quality they had barely managed to avoid, macabre, poignant, futile. They scattered in a few directions, their sullied bodies and soiled cloths shrieking for detergent and bath, loud proclamations called to one another to reconvene for unwinding purposes at Sam's house. No decision was yet made on the feature they would watch, but such minor details could always be determined at a later time.

Now was the moment to cleans, to find themselves solitary confines and release their private evils to the cascade of the shower and scrub away the remnants of uncertainty and exposure left to them by the demise of the twisted logic they were unwittingly escaping from. Soaps would wash more than green slime and bloodstains from their aching bodies.

The home of Samantha Manson was luxurious and sensible both, with trivialities alongside the necessities, casual beside formal, religion matched to acquaintance. Her home theater would, upon first consideration of it, seem obtrusive, but only because most who envision it visualize it within their own meager residence, unknown to them is her vast basement dwelling, with high quality surround sound and adjacent bowling alley, her cinema-quality popcorn and soda dispensers, and of course her majestic standing with the local takeout restaurants who convey their wares to her doorstep at speeds DC Comic's Barry Allen would applaud. Even if delivery was never an advertised selection of theirs.

When the driver arrived, stumbling out of his vehicle it had been with a stack of wide boxes up to his clavicle. Sam tipped exceptionally well, that was known, and so he treated the pizzas like gems to be presented before royalty. The fragrance of hot tomato sauce blanketed by select cheeses melting to a multi-colored slime, like mucus secreted from the steaming bread that housed the concoction, filled the sublevel. Layered atop this ocean of scorching substance were varieties set to the preference of fussy cavorters well set in their predilection. A craftsman at his finest, the pizzas were cooked to a perfection only a trip to Naples would deflect, and furnished with trappings fit to scandalize aforementioned Neapolitans.

It was a party, and the pies were dressed for revelry.

The movie was a brilliant rebound of a disappointing sequel to a refreshingly original seventies action flick. They watched the progression of a well known protagonist needing little introduction as he traversed the fictional reality of a movie maker's soundstage with a new female acquaintance that would undoubtedly become his love interest. She may have been the same from the previous movie, but the actress had changed so undoubtedly the scripter's had scribed a new adoration for their hero. The story was mildly complex but the fast paced timeline and constant use of explosions kept the less intellectual amongst them occupied.

The pizzas were strewn about at random, but never out of reach of its intended owner, so that they could sample each other's pickings, scavenging the discarded toppings when someone found a slice to their disliking and chose to dismantle it. The dark room lit up with orange and yellow fire as a terrorist's bomb detonated and a large, regal looking building fell to its mini-apocalypse. Mesmerized by the destruction the teens sat hushed, draped across furniture or arranged on the floor, chaos they did not have to prevent, pandemonium they did not have to calm, lives they did not have to rescue. Reality they did not have to live in.

"Who thinks that chick looks like Ember?" Dani quipped with a smile as a punk-goth teenager with her hair on fire ran by the screen, screaming in agony and bypassing a very large fountain several yards into the background to tumble down the escalator into the oblivion of the floor below. The main character and his sarcastic, but still fairly damsel in distress, womanly companion ran in the opposite direction, not even bothering to stop and help, or instruct the other panicking victims on how to make good an escape from this nightmarish hell.

A group of scoundrels, bad guy goons with wrestler bodies and military strides stuffed into casual wear, drew polished guns from indistinguishable harnesses in slow motion. Bullets whizzed by, icing a few bystanders while the leading roles remained astoundingly unscathed.

"You know, for once I'd like to see the main character, you know, bite it." Valerie commented derisively. "Like, right in the middle of the movie, big assed action scene too."

"Hell yeah!" Dash, who had muscled his way into the scarlet chair kin to Sam's, hooted, "You always know they're gonna make it through, just get um in the head right as they come around the corner." He used a sock-clad toe to poke the back of Danny's skull, who was currently lounging on the floor by his feet. The glance the ghost child shot out was cold and lethal, a pistol from a fuming sufferer aimed to his everlasting tormentor, any error, a noise, an action, a flinch, and the tragedy is triggered, the casualty innumerable. In the span of a heartbeat the skirmish is fought, the gun mentally grappled over, the hallways of their minds littered with discarded arguments and threats neither will decide to play. An instant, Dash's mocking grin melts to soft butter, his intimidator's frigid lakes droop, lashes quivering as the tense arms of a gunman's would as both firearm and stare lower. "Get the girl too, brains all over everything," Dash continues.

Danny stretched to reach for Dash's pizza, unsurprised when his arm is captured and he is pulled up into the sportsman's embrace. Curling into a barreled chest he snagged a portion from the box.

"Bad guy wins." Sam smirked from her own chair. "I like it

"Nmph." Danny said with a pizza slice crowded to capacity in his mouth. "Movie goes on, but what do they do next?" he chewed in thought, the screen had moved to a stairwell, characters vaulting over concrete banisters with skill and grace, slowed down to allow the viewer ample time to absorb the artful way coattails fluttered and manes of styled hair billowed about in shimmering mantles.

"Maybe show the rest of the villain's plot." Tucker reached for a new wedge of meat covered cheese and tomato, "Have them, I don't know, try to reach the goal." His pupils never left the screen, utterly immersed in the chase down the flight of steps, eyes round he observed two contenders misstep, appearing to trip on unoccupied space and hurdle over the next banister, plummeting off screen.

Danny had curved his head to study his friend in the glow of the TV when the coffee complexioned adolescent had picked up the conversation, stare immediately fixing on the pie his fingers were plucking at. Peach lips compress between powerful pearls, tortured as corners firmed a stifled grin. Leg extended he nudged Sam, indicating their mutual comrade. The morbid youth too realized what her friend was about to ingest. "Then," he expertly coiled strings of melted mozzarella without casting his gaze from the large, flat portal to another realm, "right at the end when you think the worlds gonna go to hell and nobody can stop it," he rose the segment closer to his lips, Valerie and Dani now privy to his act watched him in awe. Dash had no knowledge of his new associate's aversion to plant life, so was at a loss as to the reason everyone found Tucker about to eat a slice of vegetarian pizza so dramatically enthralling. "Right when the bad guys are ready to pull off their best, and well…conquer the world or whatever the crap they're trying to do. Some really stupid thing happens, like an earthquake hits or one of the bobs they always carry goes off, or maybe the lead bad guy ingests something and" he paused to take a bite, jaws working over his meal while his mind worked the possibilities.

He paused.

A long hiatus charted its way through his psyche, skipping over the cars of the train he was passenger to a sensation invaded the vehicle and hijacked his thoughts, dragging it to the door and fleeing into the darkness of his mind with intellect in tow. All that was left was taste, and the understanding that it should not be what it is.

"Aw, gross!" he spat. Flinging the slice back to its cardboard confines and jettisoning himself from carpet, abandoning to movie and his plotline for the assurance of a bathroom with toilet for gagging and toothpaste for washing.

The remaining occupants laughed until they couldn't breathe.

Then, gasping, laughed again.

_My lady's on her death-bed,  
For eating half a pumpkin_

S( C{{`)3

It's a fish lol my page breaks are fun.

Well, Rin said it all "came to her" (lol it sounds like she's communing with aliens or something) in the form of an image of Tucker accidentally eating Sam's veggie pizza because he was paying more attention to the movie. Then she had to come up with a way to get everybody together to watch a movie, and of course we all know she has this deranged compulsion to add slash everywhere. It's like a form of turrets or something.

See you when I see you

_niKola_


	8. Little Boy Blue

_Little boy blue come blow your horn,_

_The sheep's in the meadow the cows in the corn_

_But wheres the boy who looks after the sheep?_

_He's under the haystack fast asleep_

_Will you wake him? No, not I- for if I do he's sure to cry._

Black or Blue.

The two colors he accepted, colors he loved. The colors of pens scribbling away on test papers and college applications.

They were marred by red, slashes of murderous grade-sheet red. A red pen was best shown against black or blue.

Black like the hair of his favorite student.

Blue like the eyes shared by his two prize charges.

Red, slashed between them like anger. Like the color of a letter jacket, like the design on his white shirtsleeve.

Not red like the bloodstains, those were deeper, rusty and dark, like a brown. Not black and blue bruises, those were more green and purple, only fading to black as they aged, as they dissipated.

Black and blue, violence he preferred to turn blind and deaf to. Red, a shot of passion, of desire he liked to pretend didn't exist.

Setting the pen down he stared at the pages, both littered with mistakes, problems that needed to be solved, wrinkles that needed ironing, and the aggressive, snide undertones were hardly befitting a research paper. _Whose idea was it to pair them again?_

They had chosen different colors, black and blue, like the saying about bruises that were rarely those colors. Like the eyes they shared, blue irises black pupils.

Ravens were black, their mascot, and their school colors were red and white. White like a paper. Red like a heart. Black like the shiner they both sported that morning, though again it was really purple.

They liked each other, they hated each other, they worked well together, they were both idiots.

When had it developed? When had the teasing and taunting turn into baiting and flirting? When had the picking on turn into the picking up? It was disturbing and disgusting and terrifying and not at all healthy. _Probably _not healthy. Definitely not _normal_.

Not normal for mouths to be torn and knuckles to be split. For words in gradable colors to tell him his favorites were slipping down a jagged slope together, like Jack and Jill but with broken bodies and battered understandings. Wrecked at the base of a knoll.

This was _not_ right, this was _not _good. He had to do something, convince them of their folly, protect their _futures_.

He put pen back to paper and scribbled, correcting an error, revising a sentence. Such horrid essayists.

They fit each other well. If only it wasn't so violent, if only he could help them in some way.

Nevertheless, all he could do was slash the red between the black and the blue.

All he could do was correct what was already written.

_Little Boy Blue did not make a peep_

_Under the haystack presumed asleep_

_Until they discovered the pitchfork to blame_

_And that's the true story behind blue boys name._

_

* * *

_

Um, hi there. It's the ever (un)reliable niKola here to post a valentine's day fic, and um…hopefully start updating the rest of Rin's stuff before someone decides to hire a hit man. (I've heard talk of a DeadPool cameo sometime in the Absence storyline. It scares me.)


	9. Like A Clock

_There's a neat little clock,-  
In the schoolroom it stands,-  
And it points to the time  
With its two little hands._

"I was wondering when you'd do something."

Dash backpedaled, face snapping away from the lips that had whispered the words so huskily. "What?" He asked.

"Well," Danny drawled, "you've been fawning over me for years, honestly I didn't know you had that kind of self control." The laugh was mean and mocking. Hands in his back pickets pinched through the fabric.

"What are you talking about?" his smile was slow and sly and Dash felt his skin go clammy. "You mean you...you knew? "

"From the very beginning," he almost sang it, so proud of that, " I mean, it's kind of obvious when my school bully suddenly stops picking on me." Those hands tugged, pulling their hips close together, button against button.

"You," Dash swallowed audibly, "you never said anything." Biting his lip he tried to get his mind to focus, to think, with the lean warm inviting body pressed against him, his hands exploring the length of the brunettes back .

"Why would I?" Danny huffed, "I wasn't interested, and you never approached me." He looked up into Dash's face with an emotion Dash couldn't quite place, lips trembling at the edges as he struggled to keep his smile. "What was I supposed to do, call you out just to reject you?" And the sad pitying way it was said made Dash's mouth curve up.

"But what about now?" his hands slip up around shoulders just a few inches shorter than his own, cupped him there. "What about this?"

A warm welcoming smile, hands left his back pockets to wrap around his thick neck and tug at the short hairs. Pulling down their noses brushed, his own hands slid back down that long curve of his spine to rest open palm and warm at the waist, visual contact broke when eyelids slid down. Mouths so close, tasting each other's breath, lips skimmed like a mosquito over water. Then Danny released him, stepping away faster than Dash had managed to a moment before.

"Yeah, I'd still say I have to reject you."

Surprise, no shock, bone deep shock struck through him, melted into pain so deep and intense, Sharp, like needles in his chest, like swallowing something a little too big, a little too rough, a little difficult to breath around. "Wha-" He swallowed past the emotion clogging his throat, fought past the rising heat in his face, the burning behind his eyes. Danny just kept that teasing smirk. "What's this all about."

"Amusement," he said simply, "how often does a looser get to hurt his bully back? I couldn't resist, I mean, you're just so completely gone over me it's hilarious."

"Hilarious? You think," he managed through clenched teeth and fisted hands, "that spending these years agonizing over you is hilarious?"

"No," he admitted with a shrug but that smile came back in an instant, "I think the fact that it's _you_ agonizing over _me_ is hilarious." He tucked his hands into his front pockets and studied Dash through laughing eyes. "Did you really think, after everything you did, I'd even try and return your feelings? Come on, what a joke." He laughed then, deep and cruel and taunting. "Find some other fag to get yourself off Dash, I'm not interested."

"I'll kill you." He hissed too low for the other to hear. Thick, ferocious fury like he had never known clawed at him from somewhere deep inside, Dash growled low in his throat, making Danny's smile slide just a little. "Why," he began hoarsely, "Why the fuck would you lead me on like that? I'll fucking kill you!" He launched forward, hands reaching out to strangle, but Danny did the unexpected and stepped right back up to him, gripping dash/s hands in his own and slipping between his arms to plant a soft kiss against his lips.

"Aw, cheer up moron," he said at Dash's dumfounded expression, "that's two kisses you got out of this. That's gotta be more than you expected." Then he released those big, dangerous hands and walked away before the blond recovered from the surprise.

_**"FENTON!"**_

Ducking around the corner he turned invisible and pressed himself against the wall just as Dash stormed by, wanting to give chase no doubt. His trembling hand went up to tug at the fabric against his chest, felt the heavy hurried beat of his heart, finally able to let the situation wash through him. His heavy breathing hitched, interrupted by a dry painful sob. He shook from the agony, the sorrow, the uncontrollable _want_. And the knowing that he had held onto Dash for one moment, kissed him for a moment, and it would be the only time in all his life he ever would. Covering his face he slid bonelessly down the wall to mourn the loss of his future.

Then Clockwork was beside him with his grim wrinkled look, a hand, heavy and warm and familiar, on his shoulder.

"He'll live now." His youth reassured. "He'll find someone else and he'll live."

"But he won't love them like me," Danny's voice was thick with unreleased tears. "They won't be as happy as we were."

"But he'll live." Said the infant.

And that had to be good enough for him. _It had to be._

He heard a swear and looked up from his hands to see his past self, late from fighting a ghost, transform mid flight and continue the journey at a run, skidding into the apartment's graffiti colored wannabe park and looking around frantically.

"Dash?" He called. He was wearing an outfit Danny remembered well, he'd bought it one day while shopping with his sister, he imagined this day when he picked it out the outfit, when he would confirm his suspicions, his hopes, about Dash's feelings. It looked good on him.

He, himself, wasn't wearing that outfit , just a plain one, and seeing it on his past self delivered a hard praising punch to his heart..

"Dash?" He called again and walked around the beat up play set, as if the Jock was hiding behind it somewhere. With a noisy huff he plopped down on the base of the slide. "Great, I'm late cuz freaking ghosts and now Dash thinks I stood him up." He let his head fall into his hands. While his future self let go of his invisibility and walked out onto the cushioned pavement.

There were things they needed to talk about, and knowing himself, he wasn't and wouldn't be prepared to listen.

_And may we, like the clock,  
Keep a face clean and bright,  
With hands ever ready  
To do what is right.

* * *

_

Catching up on some posting, seeing as how it's been a year since Rin fell off the internet and has yet to climb back in. I know I've slaked in the posting of her stuff, seeing as how she keeps writing, like forever. I have oodles of saved texts and emails that need to be pieced together. So if this feels a little disjointed, it's because pretty much every three paragraphs (or one, for the really long ones) was text separately and saving them messes with the chronological order. And it doesn't exactly help when Rin goes: "Wait! these new three words would go great here", or "put that description there", or "no, I think it should be in this setting instead of that." It's not exactly easy…

But I understand that the long wait has made some of you feel a little…murderous, especially when you think about how Photo Opportunities has three new chapters that I just need to fix and post up there, heh…um, did I mention how much I love you guys and, oh hey look over there! Is that a sneak preview to Rin's new work Absence?

Loving you all please don't tell Rin I slacked thankyou!

-niKola


	10. SeeSaw

_SEE SEE! What shall I see?_

_A horse's head where it's tail should be._

_

* * *

_

"You, you're a ghost." Dash breathed. "Your Danny , Danny Phantom. Oh man, oh jeeze oh man oh, oh my god this can't be happening!"

They were sprawled out on the grassy back lawn of Fenton Works, the remains of an explosive battle scattered about them in a way reminiscent of a time, years ago, when they had been partnered and attacked by Skulker. This time it had been Dash, walking by his fence while behind the wooden barricade Danny fought the army of ghostly rodents It was just plain stupidity that Dash, being the fanboy he was, and having held his own beside the ghost boy before, hopped the fence to help.

As if battling off the ecto-tainted corpses of yard pests wasn't hard enough without having to protect some thick headed neanderthal with a hero complex. Somewhere between blasting the Roman-armored gophers in their chariots and grabbing the ninja-shrews trying to infiltrate the back door Dash had gotten captured by the savage field mice, Arnold Schwarzenegger in kangaroo-rat form with metal razor talons at the end of it's hind legs ready to turn him to shredded lettuce. Hands up in surrender they were dragged to the hole beneath the shed, no doubt the source of ecto-contaminant, and continued the adventure sub-level where, sometime during the return trip via medieval catapult operated by rebel rabbits dressed in kilts and the skulls of lizards towards the distant light of an annexed molehill, he had gone human, and landed amongst the rubble and rabble as Danny Fenton.

And while Dash had his mild to moderate freakout he was on the phone with the cavalry for damage control.

"Yeah hey Sam, think you can grab Tucker and be over here as quick as you _possibly_ can?" He shifted, leaned away from the jock and brushed dirt from his jeans. "Why? I need help dealing with Dash, he found out I was Danny-" he had to pull the phone away, glancing nervously over his shoulder, it didn't look like the blonde was in danger of fainting, just very pale and wide-eyed and, how long was she going to keep screaming obscenities at him? Yes, yes I know, no I didn't tell him! Of course I was careful, someone **else** wasn't, and it's not like I could let him get killed."

A pause.

"**_NO_ I couldn't have! Look he's freaking out. No I mean he's seriously freaking out like hyperventilating here," and he was, "Dash? Dash breathe slowly, your going to pass out and while it's fun to think you'll assume this is all a dream we need to talk. No Sam I don't want you hurting him. Dash just breath normal," he shoved the quarterback's head between his knees and rubbed circles on his back, swiping at dirt still clinging to the jacket, "concentrate on breathing, that's good. Oh for the love of- Sam gagging him is the least helpful thing right now. Oh later, no I don't think I have enough closet space for a kidnap slash hostage situation, and neither do you, not long term anyway." **

He shifted back to facing Dash as Sam three-wayed Tuck to loop him in, settling on his own knees he kept the jock's head down. This shock coming on the heels of their little adventure would have to be hell on him, he was probably queasy as well as shit-scared and the shock, he knew that kind of paralyzing brain scrambling shock, would make him disoriented for the time being.

He cued back into the conversation between his friends as they discussed solutions. "Guys, Walkers prison only works on ghosts. Humans pass right through." he blew his bangs out of his face in frustration, feeling the grit of the sub-level in his hair. "Look just get here please, I'll hold you back from throttling him then, right now I need to keep him from going into to shock.

"**_SAM!_"**

Dash clutched at his arm. "You didn't... It wasn't my fault was it?" Danny looked at him much the way he'd been looked at when they'd emerged from the hole and he was minus one black jumpsuit. "You didn't, like, kill yourself because I was picking on you did you?" His face was horribly broken hearted and tracked with drying tears, eyes red and puffy and agitated, and Danny's eyes just got wider and wider and wider.

"No Dash, no this wasn't a suicide. I'm not, I mean I'm not _dead_. It was an accident." He scrambled to clutch at some kind of reaction, but the make-me-stupid shock had jumped from blonde to brunette and his mind was frazzling.

"An accident?" A hitching breath and a long pause, Danny's sign was interupted by the next question. "Were you like sick or something? Did I beat you up while you were dying?" and his eyes were that of a nocturnal animal once again, "Oh god I picked on a terminal person!" He dissolved into blubbering sobs again and no amount of stuttered explanations could convince the jock he was alive. Every time he deflated a death theory, each more pathetic and tragic than the last, and all eventually circling back to how Dash was a horrible person, the egotist, the blonde would ask another insane out of the blue question and Danny was stuttering through his objections yet again.

When were Sam and Tucker getting here?

* * *

_See, saw, Marjorie Daw_

_Jimmy shall have a new master_

_He shall have but a penny a day_

_because he can't work any faster_.

* * *

Um, I have no idea what Rin was on when she wrote the top half of this, probably the same thing as when she came up with the BubbleGumGhost. I think her...um..background OC ghosts are just a little too out there for me, but somehow believable when you think about the background ghosts from the actual show. Wasn't there one that was just a giant silver eel?

niKola


End file.
